3

 

The walk through the city streets isn’t as intimidating when I walk with Isabel. People wave as we pass, and she has a friendly smile for everyone she sees.

A memory passes through my mind, the memory of when I first met Fischer in Middle City 3. He worked at the hospital where Mom received treatment for the mutation, and his kindness struck me more than anything else.

Isabel is like that.

Something pings in my heart, something telling me I should be connecting the dots, but I’m so hungry and thirsty I can’t see a pattern.

Isabel lives a few blocks from my own apartment. It’s deeper into the city, and the places here aren’t as run down as my own. There is glass in most windows, and some of the brick has been painted a nice, red color. In the distance, I can see the river. I remember the guards calling it the Old Tennessee River.

She leads me inside and up a single flight of stairs. “Watch your head.” She ducks under a beam.

I move just in time.

Three doors line the hallway, and we move to the first one. She rattles the knob on her door, and it swings open easily. The inside of her apartment is clean and tidy, even though everything is old and worn. It feels cozy, in a way. Familiar.

An ember of hope sparks to life. Maybe I can make my own dingy place into a home.

I want to ask questions—does Isabel have a family? Does she live alone?

But I’ve only just met her, and those questions seem way too personal for a city full of cast-out criminals.

She moves soundlessly to her cabinet and pulls out a box, then moves back to me where I stand in front of her door. “It’s probably going stale, but at least you won’t starve.”

I take the box of oats without complaint. “Thank you.”

She nods and looks around. “Would you like to stay for a while? It gets lonely around here.”

Her offer answers my earlier questions about her family, and I have no interest in going back to my own empty place. “I do have a lot of questions. They didn’t tell me anything when they brought me here.”

She smirks. “Isn’t that something?” She sits on the couch and pulls her legs up under her, then pats the seat beside her.

“Thanks again,” I say, holding up the box. My stomach growls, and she laughs.

“Eat while we talk. I don’t mind.”

I stick my hand right into the box and pull out a hand full of oats. Back home I would have boiled them and sweetened them with honey, but I’m grateful for anything right now.

“What would you like to know?” she asks.

“How often do the allowances come?”

“Once a month if we’re lucky,” she says without hesitation.

“A month?” In Greater City we were given daily allowances for food, and we were able to buy whatever else we wanted whenever we wanted it. Back home in Middle City 3, we were given weekly allowances for things like food, water, and entertainment.

She shrugs. “That is, they’re monthly if you’re one of the lucky ones who get in line on time. Tomorrow should be better, though. We’ll get out there earlier.”

“What about the elderly? How do they get their food?”

Isabel is quiet for a moment too long, and I know whatever she says isn’t going to be pleasant. “Well, mostly there aren’t any elderly around here, but we take care of the ones who are.”

Sadness fills the room, dimming the sunshine at the windows and chilling the air.

“And what if we don’t get in line in time tomorrow?”

“We always store whatever we can, because you never can tell.”

Storing up food, in case none comes next month. That makes sense, even if things here are worse than I imagined. If I don’t get in line in time tomorrow, I won’t have any food for an entire month. A shudder rattles me when I realize this could happen months in a row. There has to be a better way.

Memories fill my head, and a realization dawns. I will plant a garden. I can help the others, too. If I learned anything from Dad, it was how to grow vegetables and fruit. This way we will have food regardless.

“OK, how do we get our assignments?”

Isabel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Assignments? Most of us aren’t lucky enough to get work. Those of us who were demoted are treated worse than the natural-born Lessers. They get the work, and we get enough to live on. But the few jobs out there are with the trash dump or keeping things running for the guards.”

Trash dump? That explains the awful smell. But her words make no sense to me. After everything I’ve seen, I shouldn’t be surprised by one more lie, but I am. The Greaters never intended to let me better the lives of the Lessers. They couldn’t have. But then, what was their purpose for me? Why bring me to Greater City and drill me with questions about how they can improve the Lesser cities, when the Lessers are so unimportant to them?

Isabel sighs and moves to the kitchen, then comes back with a tin cup of water. “Here. Drink this. So, can you tell me where you came from? Or is it still too fresh?”

“It’s not too fresh, I just don’t know where to begin.” Saying I was Greater feels like a lie. I was only there for a few short months, and I accomplished nothing—well almost nothing. I did get the truth to all the prisoners. “I was born and raised in Middle City 3. I had a normal, quiet life.”

“Now that ain’t true or you wouldn’t be here, but that’s OK. You don’t got to tell me nothing you don’t want to.”

I chuckle. “It is true, I promise. It was normal and quiet until the end. My mom got sick, and that’s when things turned confusing.”

Isabel nods, her springy, black hair bouncing on her head. “That makes more sense.”

She stops pushing, and I finish eating.

“You ever know a Lesser?”

“Yes. I know a boy who tested from Lesser to Middle.”

Isabel whistles. “That’s rare.”

Not that rare, but I keep it to myself. “He became a medic in my city before I tested. I met him when my mom got the mutation.”

“I’d bet he’s what got you demoted. Am I right?”

Her words are bold, and not so far off the mark. “It’s not what you think. It wasn’t any relationship that got me demoted. I started questioning a lot of things when my mom got sick, and he helped me find answers.”

She leaves it alone and I go on.

“I also had a friend who was demoted. Her name was Jamie.”

Isabel’s eyes narrow. “When?”

“Less than a year ago. She got pregnant. At least, I think she was demoted. She was taken.”

She tilts her head and studies me. “Were you close?”

I take a deep, shaky breath and nod. “She was my best friend.”

A smile breaks across her face. “Well then, this is your blessed day.”

My heart stops beating for a fraction of a second.

I stare at Isabel.

She’s just given me two pieces of wonderful information. One, Jamie might be here, in this city. I haven’t even considered it, I’ve been so preoccupied.

But number two blows me away. She told me it is my blessed day. Blessed.

That is a Christian word.

“Can you tell me how to find her?” I ask quietly. I will consider the Christianity thing later.

Isabel stands and holds out her hand. “Tell you? Sugar, I will take you there.”